Black Ember (16 page)

“I wonder if I might, uh, borrow Carrie for a moment,” he said. “It’s a, er, work thing.”

“Now? Absolutely
not
,” Deneen said, glowering. “Unless you are about to arrest her for multiple homicide, whatever you want to talk to her about can wait. The wedding starts in three minutes and I’ve got almost two hundred people sitting out there in the hot sun, and a lot more champagne where this came from. So go back to the groomsmen parking lot and follow orders. Do you hear me?”

Cal looked from Deneen to Caryn and back, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were clouded with concern. “Whatever you say, Captain Chaos. I’ll catch up with you later, Caryn.”

Caryn
.

No one else seemed to have registered what Cal said as he retreated out the back door, headed for the barn where the groom and his attendants had spent the last hour drinking Bloody Mary’s and playing poker. Deneen hustled the bridesmaids into order, Jayne at the back, her mother and aunt fussing over the train and veil. Caryn followed the others woodenly, keeping a neutral expression frozen on her face, while on the inside her heart constricted with shock and anxiety.

Cal knew who she was. Maybe he’d figured it out from seeing her face in the news, or…her wallet, someone must have turned in her wallet, or else they caught the person who’d stolen it in the bar. But somehow, he knew, and she’d been given a reprieve of only a few hours, if he were true to his word, before everyone knew.

Caryn knew how hard it was to keep gossip in check. Even if Cal didn’t say anything to his friends, there were his fellow cops to consider, the strangers who processed the stolen items. Someone would tell; it was always that way, when a celebrity was involved. Someone may have already figured out that there was money to be made from the tabloids—this week’s big scandal: New York City socialite and designer, daughter of screen star Randall Carver, found slumming in rural North Dakota.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Georgia had her spin specialists on retainer; a single call would set her in action, countering the initial reports with whatever “official” story they came up with. But the real damage would take place here, where Caryn had pretended to be someone she wasn’t, while these people made room in their home and hearts for her. Not only was her bio-dad going to find out who she was before she had a chance to check him out first, but Zane—the first man she’d responded to in ages, possibly forever—would know that she was a liar and an opportunist.

“Smiles, everyone!” Deneen called as she opened the door to the brilliant sunshine, and they got the first look at the guests lined up in the chairs in the yard, the flower festooned arch under which the pastor stood, his hands clasped, a huge smile on his face. Matthew waited near the rear of the assembled guests, a smile on his face like a kid on Christmas morning, and behind him stood Chase, Jimmy, Cal…and Zane, tall and handsome and searching her out. When he spotted her, his eyes lit up with pleasure, and he winked.

That wink did it. Caryn felt something give way inside her. The night she had spent with Zane had been the most important in her life, and she couldn’t bear to think about what he would feel when he found out she had tricked him. She clutched her bouquet so tightly that a pin poked through the floral tape and pierced her skin, and she forced herself to stare straight ahead and not react, while the first strains of music floated across the lawn and the first bridesmaid began her regal walk toward the groomsmen.

Kim took Cal’s arm and they made their way down the aisle to a murmured chorus of oohs and aahs. They made a gorgeous couple, as did Chase and Tonda, and Jimmy and Deneen. Finally, it was Caryn’s turn. She bit her lip and took her first step, the memory of all those other weddings propelling her feet, step-pause-stepping across the grass.

“You look incredible,” Zane whispered when she reached him. He reached for her hand and squeezed it before tucking it under his arm, and then they were walking, together, down the aisle past all those guests.

Caryn was no stranger to the public eye. She’d been front row at half a dozen fashion weeks, countless charity events, photo shoots, and interviews. But she’d never felt as self-conscious as she did in the interminable moments it took her to reach the festooned arch. The people all around her didn’t know she was a fraud, that she’d taken advantage of their hospitality under false pretenses. She could barely look Deneen in the eye as she passed, and when Zane released her arm, she turned away before she could look at him.

After that, the wedding proceeded as weddings do, while Caryn felt numb to the sights and sounds around her. She stood perfectly still, her bouquet at her waist, her smile pasted in place. She could barely pay attention, she was working so hard not to cry. When the vows were said and the happy couple turned to face their guests, and the pastor announced “Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Jarrett,” she managed to make the return trip down the aisle without ever looking at Zane. When they reached the back of the congregation they were surrounded by well-wishers, and Caryn slipped away from Zane to stand with the other bridesmaids in the informal receiving line.

This, she could do. Caryn could make bland, pleasant conversation all day long, if she had to, with all these nice people who’d come to celebrate with Matthew and Jayne, and they’d never know that they’d been speaking to a low-down liar. Not, that is, until the first wave of paparazzi showed up and broke the news to the waiting world.

Carrie was avoiding him. At first Zane hadn’t been sure—the bridesmaids seemed to be required to do a lot of specialized tasks involving Jayne’s dress and the flowers and leading people to the buffet tables—but after she somehow managed to switch places with one of the other girls so she was seated at the other end of the table, there wasn’t any reason to doubt.

The sun had nearly set and it was turning into a perfect spring evening by the time everyone had been served and the three-piece band was playing muted instrumental versions of old country ballads. Everyone gushed over the seared medallions of beef and the stuffed jumbo shrimp, the plates piled high with dishes made from the best summer produce, the wine served by the busy caterers. Matthew and Jayne were flushed with happiness, staring dreamily at each other instead of eating.

As for Zane, the few bites he took tasted like cardboard. He’d nearly made up his mind to kick Chase out of his chair so he could talk to Carrie when someone started tapping silverware against a glass, calling for toasts. Zane sighed and sat back with his arms folded, half listening to Jayne’s father’s toast, and then Matthew’s stepmom.

Then Deneen took the stage and told a story about her sister that must have been funny because the cool evening erupted with laughter and Jayne blushed a pretty shade of pink. Zane clapped along with everyone else, trying to pretend that his heart wasn’t being twisted into knots by a woman who was apparently going to do to him what he’d done so many times before: run away from a relationship that barely had a chance to get off the ground.

“And now I’ll turn the microphone over to our dear friend Zane Olivo,” Deneen said. “Matthew and Zane have known each other since neither one of them had front teeth.”

Shit. The toast. In the moments since he first spotted Carrie in that girlie gown, her hair stripped of its harsh dye and her beautiful golden eyes unencumbered by heavy makeup, he had lost his heart to her all over again, only to have her ignore him completely. They’d walked together, as a couple, two hundred people’s attention fixed on them as she held his arm and smiled. But she might as well have been holding a bag of groceries, and the smile—which might fool everyone else—was not real. How Zane knew that after only a few days with her, he wasn’t sure, but he would have staked his life on it.

And now he was supposed to stand up in front of the same people and deliver the remarks that he had prepared and then forgotten. Maybe his words would come back to him, he prayed as he stumbled up from his chair and up to the podium where Deneen waited expectantly. Maybe once he got started, he could forget about Carrie, even just for the few minutes it would take to get through the blasted speech. And then he could go hide out in the barn and eat his heart out or, barring that, get rip-roaring drunk with the other dateless losers.

He took the microphone and looked out at the crowd and instantly locked eyes with Carrie. She looked beautiful, a section of her highlighted blond hair swooping down over her eyes, the purple dress showing off her bare, milky shoulders. But she didn’t look happy. Her eyes were full of regret, and that stung him more than anything else. She considered their time together a mistake. She wished they’d never spent that night together. She was just trying to get through this stupid wedding so she could put this town, these people, this night behind her.

She’d warned him—a rolling stone, that’s what she’d called herself, here only briefly, then moving on. Only, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Silently, he beseeched her with his eyes—to acknowledge him, to give him some sign that she felt what he felt.

But she only looked away.

Zane cleared his throat. God, he was failing up here. Up and down the attendants’ table, his friends were staring at him expectantly. Deneen was starting to look panicked, as though she was going to jump up and snatch the microphone back from him. He couldn’t do this to Matthew and Jayne, couldn’t let them down like this.

Focus
, he ordered himself, much as he had in the courtroom so many times. He shut his eyes for a moment and gritted his teeth and dug deep for the words he had planned to say, and when he opened them again, he was Mr. Teflon, smooth talker and even smoother operator, and everyone relaxed when he started to tell the lies he’d prepared for his best friends in the world.

“Marriage isn’t for everyone,” Zane began, looking straight at her. The words felt like a sharpened, cold dagger poking into Caryn’s heart. “It takes a special kind of person to commit to a lifetime union. Someone with character, and honor, and discipline, and…”

Caryn stared down at the table, where her half-full glass of champagne sat untouched. Zane continued with a toast that sounded more like he was condemning his friends to a lifetime of drudgery than marital bliss, but what had she expected? A man like Zane, who’d put himself through law school and mastered one high-powered career before deciding to leave it behind for another before he was thirty, knew what he wanted and didn’t let anything stand in his way. Whether it was a job or a woman, he got whatever caught his eye at the moment, and then discarded it when something better came along. Today, he was a rig hand; tomorrow, he might do anything at all. He had the looks for an acting career, the charisma to run for office, the intelligence for any profession. As for women…well. Caryn had never lacked confidence; she could ask for an introduction to any of a hundred successful men back in New York tomorrow, and be on a date with them by next weekend. She knew she was attractive. She certainly had the right pedigree. And money wasn’t something she would ever need to worry about.

She’d taken these things for granted for so long that she had forgotten that there was more to a relationship between two people than simply being attractive and successful together. She’d gotten a rude reminder the night when Nathanial called her, drunk and loud from the bar where the bachelor party was taking place, to say that he was calling it quits. “You’re a great girl,” he’d shouted, slurring his words over the pounding beat of the exclusive nightclub, “but I’m just not feeling it.”

She’d endured the heartbreak and humiliation with the help of her mother and Georgia’s team of handlers. It had taken weeks for the media furor to settle down, but even so, it hadn’t hurt half as much as she was hurting right now, when she’d been jilted by a man she barely knew.

“And so, to conclude, I wish Matthew and Jayne the stamina and patience that they will need…”

This was the worst toast ever, the part of Caryn that was still capable of paying attention noted as a smattering of tepid applause began. It was like listening to a vegan give a toast to the blue ribbon barbecue winner at the county fair. So, Zane wasn’t into marriage—she could have lived with that. They could have just dated. They could have just…aw, hell, what had she been thinking? That when he found out who she really was, he would have forgiven her the deception and arranged to spend his next stretch between hitches flying to New York?

The music started up, and Deneen, resuming her role with boundless energy, announced the couple’s first dance. Caryn couldn’t bear to watch it. She murmured an excuse and made her way down the table, where the bridesmaids and groomsmen were merrily clinking their glasses, Zane’s awful speech already forgotten.

She might as well get this over with. She tapped Cal on the shoulder and gave him a pained smile. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But about what you wanted to talk to me about…”

“Oh, sure,” Cal said. He leaned over and kissed Roan on the cheek. “Be right back, I’ve just got to speak to Carrie for a sec.”

He led her out around the dance floor that had been erected in the middle of the clearing, around the parked cars, and up to the front porch of the farmhouse. They were the only people around; the sounds of celebration were muted as they drifted on the evening breeze.

“So, we arrested the guy who stole your stuff,” he said. “He was a drifter, a meth addict passing through town. I wish I could report that we recovered everything, but there was no money in your wallet and it looks like he went through your duffle bag, too. I hope you didn’t have anything too valuable in there.”

“No, er…nothing, really. Nothing I can’t replace.”

Was it possible that Cal hadn’t put two and two together? That he didn’t know who she was? Her driver’s license might not be the best picture that had ever been taken of her, but Caryn knew it was a good likeness, and it did list her address in Manhattan.